pink

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I’m not sure why but from a young age I have hated the color pink. As I got older, it was a more conscious decision, as I saw myself less and less like the “girlie” girls and more as a tomboy. For years I saw the color as representing a whole side of the feminine that I wanted nothing to do with and never believed I could be a part of.

I didn’t want to spend lot ‘o time doing my hair and make up. I didn’t “care” if people thought that I was attractive or beautiful because I didn’t’ believe that I was. I thought that those girls in pink had something that I just didn’t have. They had style and confidence and to be honest I didn’t like them very much for it.

I should say that I was raised pretty conservatively and though they may not have meant to send such messages, it was clear from a young age that red and dressing “too provocatively” were very bad things. This fed the ideas that those girls who let themselves be attractive and not shy from attentions had to have something wrong with them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that little girls should look like they are twenty. I’m saying I wish I had felt beautiful and not worried that I was being “bad.”

Sometime during college I started wearing purple and I look good in plums and eggplant colors. Having pinkish skin there’s really no way around it. Then when I started teaching I branched out into salmon and coral. Which really look very good on me but there was  apart of me that just refused to buy anything that was straight up pink.

Well…it started with the pink earrings and a few garments that had pink in them but it was not the main color. Then the other day out of no where I picked up this pick t-shirt and didn’t think twice. On my  way out of the store I stopped by accessories and found this great scarf that has pink, yellow and cream in it and thought, ” this will go with a lot of my stuff.” And there you have it, I am a pink snob no more.

I know there is a lot of back story there about loving myself, being okay with being attractive and getting noticed that happened before this seemingly simple shift could occur. But here I am on a Friday morning all decked out in pink and loving it.

 

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3 responses »

  1. I used to hate pink. I was a child of the grunge era…I wore plaid flannel and Docs or Chucks. I wore giant, baggy jeans and black t-shirts. Makeup (if worn) was dark and heavy, and not meant to be “pretty.” I dyed my blonde hair plum and dared anybody to diss that. I did not wear pink. Pink was for weak wusses and girls that “fit in.” God forbid that I fit in or appear remotely vulnerable in any way (oooh, the issues behind that one). It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be pretty, I just didn’t want to be that kind of pretty…I’d take sexy in black over pretty in pink every time.

    Eventually, I stopped needing to hold all the world at arm’s length all the time and could let myself be pretty, sexy, tough, soft…all the different parts of me. I still don’t always succeed, and a huge part of me still would prefer to be a bad ass, but that’s not really who I am. I wear pink. And I love it. I’m blonde and fair…it just looks good on me. And it looks damn good on you, too, love. Good for you! Go wear pink!

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